


And we were in flames.. I needed, I needed you.

by anticipatedepiphany



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: 5x08 canon divergence, Bellamy comes back for Clarke, Established Feelings, F/M, One Shot, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticipatedepiphany/pseuds/anticipatedepiphany
Summary: Yet, in the end, it did not seem to matter. The final oath Clarke Griffin begged was ultimately made from the strained words that escaped his lips as the two glanced into the eyes of each other for the last time.A songfic to the song 'Winter' by Daughter that contains spoilers from 5x08.





	And we were in flames.. I needed, I needed you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forever dedicated to d](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=forever+dedicated+to+d).



**_Drifting apart like two sheets of ice, my love_**  
   
As Clarke laid upon the discomfort of Wonkru’s thin sheets, her back felt the harshness of the ground on her spine as tired eyes gazed upon the top of the boiler room. She could not help but reflect upon the events of the day and frustrations that still lingered in Bellamy’s burning orbs at the decision that Clarke considered it necessary to take.   
   
**_Frozen hearts growing colder with time_**  
   
Their hearts may have been reaching for two completely different destinations when one wished they still resided in the skies and the other was centred to the ground. Although she had heard from Harper of Bellamy’s insensitive remark that coming down to Earth was fine until meeting Octavia, Clarke could not help but ponder as to whether such aggression was also pointed to the moment where the young girl stumbled from behind the trees, informing him that Clarke was waiting for him.    
   
Yet, in the end, it did not seem to matter. The final oath Clarke Griffin begged was ultimately made from the strained words that escaped his lips as the two glanced into the eyes of each other for the last time.   
   
**_There's no heat from our mouths_**  
   
Somehow, deep within, Clarke’s soul yearned for more: it writhed as a burden, whilst her chest endured a dull ache at the thought that their goodbye was such a sullen one. After everything, there was no heat from their mouths, but simply a rawness that glazed in both sets of spheres - that this was it, this was the end, and that, to honour her days, Bellamy could not confess that he, too, played a role in Cooper’s demise.  
   
For, if there was anything worse than her own death at that moment, it was the death of the man whose soul reacted so riotously with hers.   
   
**_Please take me back to my rich youth_**  
   
As she laid there, waiting for Miller to approach from the door she knew he was protracting behind to collect her and personally carry her to her execution, she could not help but reflect on how differently things would have been if the hundred were never to have set foot upon the ground.   
   
But it would not have mattered. She would have been already gone, executed on the turn point of the first day of her eighteenth year of life. Clarke may have concocted some form of fake laughter at the irony, if she were not in the poor mental state that fatigued her bones and prevented her from attempting to break the metal cuffs that rubbed against flaked skin on her wrists.  
   
**_And we were in flames, I needed I needed you_**  
   
Third time lucky, others often proclaimed, and, in that situation, it seemed as if death was the one who had come to collect their allegorical fortune. She had avoided the tendrils of its grip twice already - first, on the arc, secondly, from the flames of praimfaya, and the third time, the execution by the red queen was to be the lucky action that departed her from this world, as her spirit would be a sovereign to the stars once more.  
   
**_To run through my veins, like disease_**  
   
As much as Clarke was ready to set her own thoughts and defiance to cessation, there was one qualm she did suffer as she attempted to return herself to a sitting position that followed another sting of the wrists, a seething sound escaping her lips before her body betrayed her, cascading to the ground once again.   
   
The memory of she and Bellamy’s valediction.  
   
Many said that on the cusp of death, your life and the epitome of it broadcasted in front of your very eyes, as an attempt of your soul latching on to a final glimmer of positivity before it passed on to the next stage. All the commander of death witnessed, however, was the scene of she and her almost lover as her mind wandered to the young girl whom had become a daughter figure, making sure that a promise etched from his lips to protect her now that she could not.  
   
But that was not the only meaning of ‘promise me.’  
   
**_And now we are strange, strangers_**  
   
It was a promise me that, when my ashes met with the turmoil of muck on the ground, when the pools of my orbs were no more and the cheeks that you could so often taint from the flirtatious annotations that anxiously stumbled from your lips, that our souls would not become the strangers that they were throughout our adolescence. Promise me that my head would live within your heart and hone each decision that you made. That my death would not perpetrate a weakness upon you that would lead you down a similar demise.  
   
And as their eyes darted in the hues of each other, final words exchanged from their gazes, rather than their lips. And Clarke knew.  
   
She knew that he had promised.   
   
**_It's different now_**  
   
Before any further reflection could be made, the blonde’s attention was quick to flicker to the movement of the previously ajar door and the frenzied voices that spoke in hushed tones outside of it.   
   
The firmness in such a melodious tone was one that Clarke would never be capable of erasing from her memory; it took a mere fraction of a second for the realisation to dwell upon her that it was Bellamy Blake negotiating with Miller at the door.  
   
No.She wanted to plead at the top of her lungs.  _You promised. You promised that you would live on for me and protect Madi._  
   
**_Gray faced_**  
   
She thought that the paleness of his usually toned skin was a sign of distress regarding her execution as he prowled into the room, completely oblivious to the actions that he had just taken. For the sacrifice he had just downpoured upon his sibling in order to protect the  _traitor that he loves_ and get to peace.   
   
**_Eyes burnt out, flames are gone_**  
   
The fire that usually resided in flickers of her hues were drenched with defeat as she tried to reason with him once more, yet, there was simply hurt bouncing in the specs of her azure orbs, fluttering closed as her breaths suddenly quickened.   
   
**_Gloves are on_**  
   
Bellamy was there all too soon, scooping her disheveled state into the comfort of firm arms as Clarke began to hyperventilate. Sharp raptures of breath escaped the back of her throat as her body vigorously shook within his grasp.  
   
She couldn’t do it, she wasn’t ready --  
   
Wasn’t ready to take her last breath of air --  
   
Her last gaze at him --  
   
Her last sight of the love that could have been.  
   
**_I have a feeling_**  
   
Paranoia surged through her. Surely, Octavia hadn’t been so kind to allow Bellamy to end her life in the comfort of his embrace?   
   
She couldn’t shake the feeling off that something horrific had taken place. That Octavia had a change within the cruelty of her heart and decided that Bellamy, too, was a traitor and the two were to battle for their lives.   
   
**_Love's gone back_**  
   
It was antagonising moments after when the blonde’s breathing started to return to its normal pace - after hasty breaths of panic emitted from Bellamy’s own mouth as he begged her to remain calm, to breathe. To come back to him.  
   
Although it took another bundles of moments for words to fully reverberate the walls of the boiler room, coming from Clarke.  
   
“What did you do, Bellamy?”  
   
“What was necessary to keep you alive.”  
   
Before she could respond, her intensity of breaths suddenly worsened once more, and darkness found her bones as they resided in the clutches of her protector. Of the good little knight by his queen’s side.  


End file.
